Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
“It’s spiked,” he volunteers, halting me midway through sipping. He holds up a bottle of tea for himself. “Mine isn’t since I’m driving you back to your car, but I figure it’s Friday. You can afford to blow off a little steam.”
I swallow the drink in my mouth, but I cap the bottle, unsure I’ll take another. Thankfully, he also brought bottled water, so I grab one of those. “You have got to stop spiking my drinks and not telling me.”
“I did tell you. Just now.”
I shoot him a look. “Before I take a drink would be the appropriate time. In fact, asking beforehand if I would like alcohol in my drink would be the best-case scenario.”
Immediately rejecting the suggestion, he shakes his head. “Nah, not my style.”
“Yeah, I gathered you’re more the ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission type’,” I mutter dryly.
Landon’s eyebrows rise and he leans back on his hands, stretching his legs out in front of him. “When have I ever asked for forgiveness?”
“I… don’t know. Presumably at some point in your life.”
He shoots me a look that seems to convey if you say so but doesn’t comment.
I stare at him. “Please tell me at some point you have expressed remorse for any number of the terrible things you’ve done.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Most of them were to you. You remember an apology?”
Certainly not.
“So, you just don’t care who you hurt, huh? Fuck everybody? Then why should anyone care about you?”
He shrugs again, looking out at the water. “I doubt anyone does.”
My heart flips over in my chest, but decidedly not in the good way. It’s the flippant way he says it more than the words themselves. I know Landon has a chip on his shoulder, everyone knows that, but he doesn’t say it like some bullshit meant to draw out my sympathy. He says it like it’s an established fact he made peace with a long time ago.
And that reminds me of the Landon I tried to approach in middle school.
The one I went to that stupid party for.
The one I wanted to kiss.
Shaking my head, I pick at the label on my water bottle. “That’s not true, Landon. A lot of people care about you. Your dad cares about you. I know you guys don’t have the best relationship, but he does care. He wouldn’t try so hard to protect you from yourself if he didn’t. Malek obviously cares about you. He’s always trying to keep you from getting into trouble. Clearly, I care about you. We wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t.”
His mouth tugs up slightly at the corners. “Yeah, but you care about everybody.”
I scoff. “That is not true.”
“Sure it is. Miss Uplift Club with all your community service.” He lightly mocks me, but there’s no true malice in it this time, he’s just ribbing me. “I’m just one of the strays you volunteer to help out with.”
I shake my head. “No. Because if one of those strays bit my face off, I’d throw its little ass in the cage and never approach it again. When I had the chance to put you in one, I didn’t. I’m no overly loving angel. I’m not made of forgiveness. I’m prickly and opinionated and not one bit reluctant to stand up for myself. It was a conscious choice to let you off the hook. It is a conscious choice every single day that I wake up under your roof and commit to making this work. It’s not some… natural compulsion that I just passively give in to. I always want to give you a chance, and even though you’ve made me regret it each time I have before, I’m still here. If that doesn’t show you I care, I don’t know what would.”
I’m so fired up by the end of that, it takes me a minute to process the smirk on his stupid, handsome face, the amusement dancing in the depths of his green eyes.
“You’re fucking with me,” I realize.
“Would I do that?”
“Yes,” I say, wide-eyed. “You absolutely would. You asshole.” Then, letting my temper get the best of me, I uncap my bottle of water and dump it right over his head.
The smirk disappears instantly, and although my temper also dissolves instantly at the sight of him soaking wet, I’m still a little sorry I can’t hold back a laugh.
Landon pushes off the beach and sits forward, pulling his wet, clingy T-shirt away from his skin. He looks over at me slowly, unable to believe I just did that, and I try shooting him my most innocent, don’t-kill-me smile.
“I’m part Irish,” I explain. “We have tempers.”
“Oh, I’ll show you a temper.”
I crawl away, hastily making my way to my feet. “You deserved it! You can’t get me back.”
I turn to run away from him, but before my foot can even hit the beach, he grabs me from behind, yanking me back against his wet body.